


Look Who's Coming To London

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [23]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Beginnings, Caring, Cold, Coriolanus - Freeform, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, German food, In Denial, Not a Date, Sick Tom Hiddleston, Surprises, Theater - Freeform, blossoming feelings, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: After their first meeting and lots of texts with Tom, Han starts her life in London. She hasn't told him, yet, but surprises are a good thing, right? From stage door to colds, they both manage their first weeks together in the same city.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tom & Hanna [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209162
Comments: 21
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! We're almost at the very beginning of Han and Tom's story. Enjoy!

If you asked Han, she would tell you that she didn't exactly lie. Not really. It's just that Tom's never asked her whether she's moving to London. So, she didn't have any reason to tell him. Honestly, it's more than a miracle that she even has Tom's number. That he was the one asking for  _ hers _ those three months ago. Three months. Three months of writing back and forth, of exchanging news, texts, funny memes and selfies.

She can't believe it's already January. She's officially in London. Han looks around her small - but expensive - flat. The company she's working for, and was working at in Frankfurt as well, helped her find it. It's not yet all that comfy, but she has two weeks before she starts the job mid January. She has time.

Han's also in the same city as Tom. Something he doesn't yet know about. It makes her heart race, in a good way. She's not in love, far from it, but the texts are exciting and sometimes flirty. Tom thinks she's in Germany though. Maybe he's just flirty, because he's not afraid she'll ever want more? She won't. Doesn't. Just to make sure.

She has a British phone now too, but still uses the German one for her conversations with her family. And Tom. Still doesn't count as lying, though, right? Right.

Han takes a deep breath, snuggles deeper into the sofa and under the blanket and opens her book. She'll tell him eventually. She frowns. Maybe he doesn't even want to see her. Han sighs. Damn it all.

***

Tom’s  finger hovers over the ‘share’ button, wondering whether he should send that selfie to Han or not. Is he contacting her too often? Is a photo like this too personal? Every time he interacts with her, he wonders whether there’s an invisible line he’s about to cross. But nevertheless, it’s fun to exchange messages and more with her. He’s glad he asked for her number in Australia, though he still isn’t sure what devil made him do it.

And he’s been seeking out contact increasingly, even during the hectic schedule of ‘Coriolanus’, stage door, and living the (chaotic) dream.

Scoffing at himself, he types a short comment to go with the photo of him in the park with a hammed up grin on his face.  _ When London deigns to honour you with some rare sunshine, you go out and soak it up. _

He clicks ‘send’ and shoves the phone back into his pocket as he continues on his stroll. He’s surrounded by happy couples, families with squealing children and barking dogs. Sure, it’s seriously cold outside, but the winter sun is really giving its best and so everyone seems to be out and about.

His hand twitches, wanting to see whether he has a reaction from Han yet. Goodness, is he so eager?

Frowning, he kicks a pebble into the melting sludge and picks up his pace. He gives himself a full ten minutes - yes, he checked his watch, dammit - before checking.

Huh. She’s clearly seen his message but not replied yet. Uh-oh?

***

Han's worrying her lips. Has been doing so for ten minutes, ever since she received Tom's selfie. It's not that she doesn't know he's in London. But seeing it in pictures - while she's here as well! - gives her an entirely different feeling.

_ Is _ she lying to him after all? And if so, why exactly? Okay, she knows. She's afraid.

Responding shouldn't even be a problem either way. Just a text. The problem is though, every time Tom sends a selfie, showing her his trust - he is a freaking celebrity after all - she responds with the same. Showing him that he's right to trust her.

But he knows her old flat in Frankfurt by now. Knows the view from her windows, where her shelves are lined up in her rooms and the way her books are arranged on them.

He knows way too much.

Sighing, Han makes sure it's just the back of her sofa in the background, her book held up next to her face.  _ And if you're lazy like me you're underneath your favourite blanket and enjoy a good read,  _ she writes back.

There. Harmless.

***

Tom  smiles when her reply arrives. Goodness, she’s beautiful. Even - especially - like this, with no make up, her hair in a messy ponytail and her eyes shining. He loves her smile. Is that creepy? That it makes his heart skip? He kind of wants to tell her how beautiful she looks, but he also kind of worries that it would send the wrong signal. He doesn’t want to come across as a lecherous perv who’ll ask for nudes after such a comment.

Yikes, just thinking about Han in the nude made him all hot. No, wait, surely that’s because he’s been walking so fast.

With a sniff, Tom decides to avoid awkwardness and comments on the book instead. He loves it that they’re both geeky about books, movies, and other common interests.

But in a corner of his mind, he wonders whether Han might find him as handsome as he finds her beautiful. Well, she did comment she liked his new short hair, cropped more than usual to play Caius Martius. Did she notice that he’s bulked up on quite some muscles too and isn’t such a lean beanstalk anymore?

Harrumphing at his own silly thoughts, Tom circles back home. He might’ve had this brief respite but it’ll soon be back to the mayhem on stage. For a moment, he wishes Han could see him live in action. She’d enjoy that, wouldn’t she? Perhaps he should send her tickets?

No , he decides a moment later. There'll be questions asked by the stage manager and then there'll be gossip and in the end Luke might possibly kill him. And for what? For nothing.

No, better to keep his head down. Maybe they'll see each other again eventually through some different circumstances. London is a beautiful city and always worth a visit. Maybe Han could make a trip without seeing the play. He'll even have time to show her around then. If she wanted that, of course. Plus, no awkward questions about her address. And no chance for her to decline.

The yell of a runner a few seconds later shocks Tom and makes him jump back several feet. Jesus. Look where you're going, yes, yes, he knows.

Heart beating faster, he checks the path extra carefully before crossing it, making the way back to his house.

He loves it here, London is where he was born, where it just feels natural for him to live. Of course it's simply breathtaking and packed with history, music, movies and theatre as well.

Would he ever consider moving, he muses. He's lived in LA for a while and of course in many hotels all around the world for the movies. But leaving, not seeing his family when he's 'home'? His sister Sarah moved to India, at least for a bit. She loves it there, and found a family. That may be something different than just leave for another country all on your own.

Tom doesn't even know why he's thinking about it, but it did make the way back home seem quicker.

He wonders if Han will answer, before he needs to get on stage later. She knows his schedule. The next moment he shakes his head. She can't build her work day around his. Wait. It is the middle of the week, right? Of course, Han doesn't tell him everything and they haven't spoken every single day. But does she have the day off? Reading on the sofa? Is she sick? Should he have asked? Is that creepy?

***

Han  \- who won’t admit to herself that she’s still staring at Tom’s selfie - jerks suddenly as a thought sinks in. Shit, it’s the middle of the week and she’s just sent him a pic of lounging lazily. Will he ask questions? Does that mean she needs to put on her big girl panties and tell him the truth?

She waits a while, nibbling on her thumb, but no reply other than book talk comes. So she breathes a sigh of relief and jumps headlong into their familiar banter and geeking out. It’s lovely to discover so many similarities. Tom’s such a dork deep down, and that’s refreshing. Although she’s not immune to his other persona, nuh-uh.

* * *

Han has regretted her decision about one billion times already. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time but judging by the way her stomach is somewhere down there with her cold toes, it wasn’t.

There’s screaming and jostling all around her. Breath rising like steam into the cold evening air. Nudging and shoving and umming and awing. Some of the girls here need to take a chill pill. Others are endearing or look as nervous and about to puke as Han.

For she’s here among a horde of fangirls at the stage door of the Donmar Warehouse, waiting for Tom and hoping for a moment with him.

“ _ Du dumme Nuss _ ,” she mutters to herself, rubbing some warmth into her icy hands. “ _ Als ob du hier eine ruhige Minute haben könntest _ .”* Worst idea ever, seriously. It’s crowded and Tom can’t pay attention to everyone, even though he’s been known to spend a lot of time at the stage door and be super-obliging despite being exhausted after the play.

The play, oh the play! It was magical, Han has no other word for it. She’s seen Tom in his element and she feels like a druggie on a high. But that doesn’t help with the nerves now, unfortunately. It’s been a few days since the selfies and she has no idea how Tom will react to seeing her here - IF he sees her at all, that is.

And then suddenly all hell breaks loose as a door - the stage door, Han supposes - opens and out comes a security guy and then Tom. Jesus, he looks beautiful. As far as Han can see at least, above the heads of some even smaller women.

He obviously had a shower, skin fresh and without any signs of fake blood. He's wearing a black cardigan, one Han's seen him in in some of the pictures he's sent her over the months she's known him. Tom's cheeks are already a bit rosy as he waves to the crowd, either from the sudden onslaught of cold air or he is a little embarrassed by the shouts, screams and crying all around him. Because of him.

The madness gets worse for a few seconds, people pushing each other around, trying to move forward, when there's simply. Not. Enough. Space. Han would roll her eyes at all of them, if she wasn't amongst the exact same crowd.

And then suddenly it's all gone quiet, and for a moment Han wonders if Tom's either gone inside already, or if she's maybe been stomped to death by fangirls. Both would be unfortunate.

But then she hears his voice over the masses. "Everyone, thank you for coming and watching. I know it's a bit exciting, but I promise you everyone will get a picture or an autograph, no need for pulling and pushing, alright?"

There's a murmur of 'alright' going through the group, and Han feels the girls and herself relax a bit. Only to get incredibly nervous a few seconds later. She will meet him. He will see her. Oh God, does he even want to?

Tom  can feel the tiredness in his very bones. Heck, in his blood and in every breath he takes. But there’s also still adrenaline left from the show and he’s also vowed himself to thank the fans like this every evening. And so here he is, braving another crowd and smiling until his face hurts.

A few minutes in and many pictures later, he takes a moment to gaze at the crowd and breathe a bit easier - and stops breathing altogether.

Wow, didn’t know he was SO knackered that he’s having visions now. Surely he’s hallucinating because that can’t be Han among the stage door crowd. He actually rubs his eyes and blinks to stare again, but it’s the expression on her face that makes him realize he’s not gone bonkers from exhaustion. She sort of looks excited, nervous, guilty, wry, panicky, glowing, and uncertain.

It takes all his manners and training not to just rush over to her, and he has no idea what he’s feeling at the moment either. Giddiness and a whole host of other emotions?

Then the moment has come, they’re face to face in a sea of people clamouring for his attention. Ingenuously, all he can think of is “hi - you here?!”

Well , this was a stupid idea after all, Han concludes. And not just from Tom's very much not enthusiastic greeting. So, all Han breathes back is another "Hi." accompanied by a stupid little wave.

What else is there to do at stage door? What was she even thinking?

"I really liked the play. Loved it. You're incredible in it and your cast is as well. Glad you got all that blood off. That must have been something. Ever not managed to take it off?" she rambles and then stops. The other girls around her look all sympathetic, probably because they won't do much better than this - and know it.

Tom looks gobsmacked, torn between a grin and what must be pity. "Thank you. I… But you're here. Not in Germany."

She nods. "Not in Germany."

"Why…" But then he's interrupted by the guy behind him telling him to continue.

Han risks a look back. The crowd has thinned drastically, but there are still too many fans to have a proper conversation here.

"Uhm, I think it'd take a bit longer to explain," she says as she faces Tom again.

"Yeah," he nods. After a few moments of silence he beams at her. "Come through then."

"Huh?" But before Han can really understand what's happening, she's pulled out of the group of girls by strong hands - Tom's strong hands - and then pushed a little towards the door and the theatre guy waiting there.

"I'll be inside in," Tom glances at the crowd, "ten minutes. Go, warm up," he winks and then while still processing it, Han is suddenly inside the building, the door closed behind her.

* * *

And  so ten minutes later, Han finds herself pacing Tom’s little oasis backstage. She was ushered into his dressing room by security with a confused but polite smile and has been alone since. And she sure feels warm now. Or maybe the sweating isn’t because of the temperature change and more because she’s nervous. What else is new…

She hasn’t even really looked around her at all the items Tom must be using every day in here, she’s been on edge for him to return.

And before she can muster the courage she usually has, the door opens and Tom in that unfairly snuggle-urges-inducing cardigan moves in. He closes the door behind him but doesn’t make a move to approach her.

Okay then, no hug for her. Shit.

Silence. Then Tom mutters with a self-deprecating grin, “For a moment there, I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Heh. Haha. No. It’s me, tadaaaa.” She needs to shut up, she’s sounding deranged. Han takes a deep breath. “Um so… Yeah. Thought I’d surprise you.”

“And you sure as hell succeeded.” Tom sounds confused but also sort of happy and mighty intrigued. That’s good, right? She can totally pull this off without any trouble.

“So did you fly in today?”  _ So ein Mist. _ Not pulling this off well then…

“Uh. Actually, I’ve been in London for a few days now.”

Tom does that adorable blinky thing, then frowns. “Wait. Seriously? And you didn’t tell me?!”

Yeah. Shit.

Ah , fuck. That was a bit much, right? Tom's barely managed to stay at the door and not give her a hug. She looks so adorable in her heavy winter coat, the thick scarf and the rosy cheeks.

And now he acts like she's just here in London to see him. Which she obviously isn't, because as she just said, she's been here for a few days.

Okay. Yeah. He can deal with that. At least she did surprise him, that's something. And it's a good surprise, too.

Before Han can answer and possibly break his… pride a bit more, Tom continues. "I mean, I could have shown you around! Or, well, I still can, obviously. You're here for a week?" Shit. Too eager, again. He shakes his head at himself. Maybe it's the exhaustion.

"You can! Really. We… yeah, we can do that. If you have the time."

"Of course! Of course. I wouldn't have asked otherwise. Uhm." Think, Tom. But without looking too eager. "I always have the Mondays off. If you're still there then?"

Uh oh. Han flinches. He clearly sees it. Damn it. Maybe she's not there. Maybe she is, but doesn't want to see him. Maybe she's just being nice.

"I am."

Yeah. She's just nice then.

"Uhm. Actually, I'll be here for quite a bit."

"Oh?" Tom tries to lean back casually, almost stumbling, before his back hits the door. Han bites her lips.

"At least a year, actually."

Tom  is back to blinking owlishly and Han’s stomach is also back down there with her toes. But at least now it’s out. Things can’t get worse. Right?

Tom straightens up, all ridiculous pretense at being unaffected gone as he frowns at her again. She can hear the wheels in his brilliant brain turning.

“That’s...a bit of a long holiday,” he says slowly, and Han gulps down a lump in her throat. “Did you come here for some time out? That doesn’t sound quite like you.”

He knows her well… Taking the plunge, Han tells him about her job offer, skipping the boring details but unable to hide the mix of excitement and guilt in her tone. Tom’s nodding, and so far he hasn’t yelled at her or showed her the door. That’s good, isn’t it?

But after he’s taken it all in, the look he gives her reminds her of a puppy having been kicked. It’s filled with disappointment he isn’t even trying to hide. Ouch. Shit.

“You know, I’d thought we’d become friends these past months,” Tom murmurs. “But you’d have told a friend about something this important. If not in advance because you weren’t sure, then at least once it’s imminent or once you’re here.”

He takes a deep breath, and Han realises she’s been holding hers. “Hanna, if we’re not as close as I had assumed or if you don’t really feel like spending time with me while you’re here, then you need to tell me that and I swear I won’t take offense.”

Tom knows he's a good actor. He doesn't pride himself with it, but he's heard it from many people, and he knows what he can do and loves it.

Those 'many people' - friends and family - also tell him he's a terrible liar and shit when it comes to hiding his emotions. He doesn't mean to make Han feel guilty, but he can't shake the disappointment, nor does he want to.

The elated feeling from when he first saw her outside and then here in his dressing room is gone. She clearly doesn't think they're friends.

"No!" Han almost shouts now, and Tom looks at her from his place by the door. Her face tells him a lot, but he still doesn't understand. "No," she repeats. "I see you as a friend, I really do. But I was… Scared I guess."

"Huh?" Okay. That was neither acted well, nor was it intelligent.

Han picks at the skin of her wrist with her fingers, now clearly nervous and almost… mortified?

"I know it's cliché. But you're you. And I don't even know why you would give me your number. And I was afraid you regretted it. That you were maybe happy that I was so far away in Germany, and we wouldn't get to see each other again. I… Yeah."

Yikes , all this blinking seems to be a habit now. Tom knows he’s back to being the embodiment of confusion but he can’t help it. The way things are going is giving him whiplash of the emotional kind.

“Wait a minute.” He holds up his hand. “What do you mean, I’m ‘me’? What’s wrong with me?”

Huh, that sounded a bit panicky. Not good. But he’s trying to make sense of this and to salvage what’s salvageable.

Han scrunches up her face in a way that would be utterly adorable if he weren’t utterly befuddled right now.

She gesticulates wildly and he thinks he can hear some German muttering. Yup, adorable, but he really isn’t in the mood to savour it - or even tease her about it.

“Oh come on,” she huffs at last. “You and I, we live in different worlds. You have a million screaming women of all ages waiting for you outside, for starters.”

“And I take it you don’t have a million screaming men waiting for you in Germany?” Tom asks. He can’t help the snark, he needs a coping mechanism right now, dammit.

“Wha-?! No! I mean...ugh.” She throws up her hands, then glares at him. “You’re THE Tom Hiddleston, not just any Tom. I’m plain old Hanna from Germany. Why would you even want to be friends with me? How could I just make assumptions? Throw myself at you?”

Tom's eyebrows shoot up. "Throw yourself at me, huh?"

Great. Han feels herself blushing. Out of everything she's rambled that is what he got.

"Tom…"

"I know, I know. Sorry." He takes a deep breath, and Han would really, really like to sit down. Or take off her jacket. Or possibly both. So, she does. Walks to his very cosy looking Sofa and plants herself there, losing the scarf and opens her jacket. Tom stays put.

"You know what I mean," she mumbles. Hell, this is not going as planned.

"I know. But you're not right."

"Ha, I think I'm…"

"Nah," he interrupts. Rude. "You didn't meet Tom Hiddleston in Australia, and you know that. You met Tom. I admit I was there for work originally, but Tom Hiddleston doesn't just give his mobile number to any screaming fans. You weren't screaming, and I gave you my number, because I wanted you to have it. Still want you to have it. And I want to be your friend. This not communicating and not telling me has nothing to do with me, I'm happy whenever you write and I'd love to see you more now that you live here."

Wow. Tom's cheeks turn the lightest pink. Did he say too much? Well, they're on the same page then.

"Okay," she whispers.

“ Okay .” Tom resists the urge to fidget. For heaven’s sake, he isn’t a teenager anymore.

They regard each other across the room for a moment and the reality finally sinks in, now that he doesn’t feel so disappointed and confused anymore. She’s here. After all these months. Here to stay!

“Perhaps we should start over?” he asks. “I mean, this evening?”

When she nods, his long legs take him over to her in a flash and he lifts her into a hug. Too much, too soon? Tom doesn’t care, he’s gotta hug her hello.

“Hi,” he mumbles against her hair, which seems a bit longer now and smells divine. Not that he is noticing her scent, nope.

“Hi.” Is Han burrowing into his embrace or is that wishful thinking?

A moment later, they step back, both alarmingly pink-cheeked. Gee, has it always been this warm in his dressing room?

Good thing Han took off that scarf. Because Jesus, the heating in Tom's room is set way too high. Judging by his rosy cheeks Tom must feel the same. He should also not be allowed to wear that cardigan, because it's too cuddly and smells too much like him. Not that she noticed.

"So, should I show you the city then? Or do you have to work?"

Her smile is too wide, but Han doesn't care. "I still have the entire next week off. You're the busy one," she grins.

And he actually grins back. "I have Monday off. So we're fine."

"Good."

"Good." 

God, this is awkward. She feels it and sees it on Tom's face too. Maybe three days in Australia weren't the solid foundation for a friendship they both hoped for? Even with the added texts?

But they have time now, right? To meet and become friends. And for the moment Han can even ignore the fact that Tom's not 'just Tom' for lots of people he meets. People she'll meet as well? Yeah, better not think about that.

"I can pick you up?" Tom interrupts her thoughts. He looks so hopeful it makes Han smile.

"I'll text you the address."


	2. Chapter Two

Oh god. Fuckity fuck.  _ Verdammte Scheiße.  _ Han has many words for what she’s feeling right now. None of them are good, neither are the feelings, except if you maybe count panic and the urge to vomit as excitement.

It’s 9am on a Monday morning -  _ the _ Monday morning - and Tom’s supposed to be here any minute now. Here in front of her flat. If she can help it in any way he won’t come in. The boxes are unpacked by now - another rush of panic made her do it as she thought about Tom coming into her flat seeing the chaos.

But her ‘home’, if she can even call it that, is nowhere near Hollywood-actor presentable. And yeah, Tom talked about not meeting Tom Hiddleston, but the real one, but still. This tiny thing with the small kitchen and the almost non-existing bathroom, the living-room, and the bedroom, which is full by simply putting her bed inside isn’t what Han wants Tom to see. It’s not made for the Hollywood actor and even less for her friend Tom.

And this is just about her flat. Up until now Han refused to even think about going out with Tom - not going out as in dating, but going outside. She’s been to London before, has been living here for a week, and she still can’t fully figure out the fastest way from the park to her flat, and don’t even get her started on the Tube.

She’ll basically be following Tom around like a lost puppy, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

***

Oh god. Fuckity fuck. Tom has many choice words running through his head, might even be muttering some out loud.

He’s been pacing in front of the address Han has given him for a minute or more, clutching the flowers so tightly they’re probably crushed beyond recognition. Yeah, flowers. He’s actually bought her a nice bouquet of orange and yellow flowers - no roses, god forbid - even though this is SO not a date. What kind of dolt brings a friend flowers? This dolt apparently. Tom’s this close to chucking them into the next garbage can but he also kind of needs something to hold on to.

And he needs to man up and walk to that door, ring that bell, and show that wonderful woman the London he loves. Only, he’s way too nervous.

Will she invite him in? Should he want to come in? How ‘friendly’ are they, in real as opposed to on the phone?

Should he have taken more care with what he’s wearing? He glances at the washed-out jeans and black cardigan, grimacing. Not-on-a-date Tom looks boring, doesn’t he?

He sneezes, which at least interrupts his frantic pacing. He’s pretty sure the neighbours are watching. Hunching his shoulders, he sneezes once more as the wind kicks up. The cold out here settles the dispute. He’s going to ring that fucking bell and face the music.

***

Oh . Oh oh. One shoe in hand, hopping on one foot and the jacket half put on, Han hears the doorbell. Fuck. What to do? Where to go? Definitely not outside yet.

She hops to the buzzer, picking up the phone. "Yeah?" she breathes.

"Uh, it's Tom." It sounds more like a question than an introduction.

"Yeah, come up, the third floor," she rushes out, then presses the button to open the door downstairs.

What the heck?! No! No, that wasn't supposed to happen. No Tom coming upstairs. Well, she can't meet him in the hallway now, can she? So, instead Han sighs, puts on the other shoe and pushes her arm through the other sleeve of her warm winter jacket.

And then she waits, opens the door a little bit, closes it again, when she can't see Tom, and then opens it again a minute later. 

There he is, on top of the stairs, looking - and Han frowns at that - a bit sweaty and out of breath. And gorgeous, but no need to point that out.

"Hi," she says, and then returns the smile Tom sends her way.

"Hi." Tom's walking to her, coming closer and closer. And then suddenly she finds herself wrapped in his arms and hugged tightly. Just to be pushed away a second later, a bouquet of flowers thrust into her hands. "I thought maybe you still needed a bit more colour in your flat." 

She can't fight the grin, simply can't. It's silly, but she's strangely touched. Even though the flowers look like he sat on them on the way here.

"Thank you," she whispers and suppresses a scream, when Tom suddenly turns to sneeze - twice - into a hastily pulled out handkerchief. "Bless you! Are you allergic to the flowers? Going to put them inside real quick."

Han leaves him standing in the open door and feels stupid immediately. He's brought her flowers after all. "You can come in, I can show you where I live after all."

Tom  really wants to. And really doesn’t want to. It’s another big step, isn’t it? He’s all for big steps - but is she? Does she feel obliged to invite him in because of the squished flowers?

Swallowing thickly - huh, his throat kinda hurts, is he THAT nervous?! - he does come inside and lets the door fall closed. It looks...tiny. In disarray and somewhat impersonal. But also comfy already. He can spot some books, some mostly empty boxes.

Rooted to the spot with an awkward smile, he waits for Han to return and sniffles a bit. When she does come back, he realizes how pretty she looks. Even though she’s all bundled up. Cute. Pink cheeks included. Argh, are his own cheeks going pink now?

“So…” the both say in unison and grin.

“Can I offer you anything to drink?” Han asks. Her accent is a tad more pronounced. Is she nervous? At least that makes two of them…

Tom shakes his head. He needs to be out and about, actually do something and not embarrass himself. “Let’s go while the weather isn’t too ghastly?”

" Yes !"  _ Ach, verdammt. _ That sounded way too enthusiastic. Han risks a look outside. It's grey and windy and doesn't look too inviting. But the idea of spending more time with Tom inside her flat makes her too nervous to not be happy about going outside.

Tom clears his throat and chuckles. "Alright, after you then." 

She picks up her bag, makes sure to lock the door properly and then makes her way downstairs with Tom behind her.

"I must warn you," she says as they come out of the house, "I have no idea how to get anywhere." Damn, it is cold, Han thinks and pulls the scarf a little tighter around her neck.

Another chuckle from Tom, but he doesn't look too happy with her. What? What has she done now? "That's fine. Maybe we stick to Islington then? Or we can take the Tube and I'll show you the London Zoo?"

Oh. Well. Han looks down at herself. She's dressed for a proper day out. Explore all of London, do the touristy things. But honestly, Tom doesn't look that enthusiastic. So maybe stick here for real? She hasn't seen lots of Islington, really, and she does know how to get on the Tube and stuff. So maybe that's a start.

"That'd be nice," she finally answers and is rewarded with a beaming smile. Worth it.

"Ok. We can maybe even get off the Tube and to King's Cross, you know, the station from…" 

"Harry Potter! I know. I've read all the books. Yes. Please."

"Oh, I haven't. But I've seen the films." 

Before they can make another step, Han's hand shoots out, grabbing Tom by the arm. "Excuse me, what?! You haven't read the books? Are you serious?"

His cheeks are tinted a deeper red now. "Uhm, yes?"

"I can't even…" 

* * *

This  is fun, Tom is thinking to himself. Sure, Han hasn’t once stopped throwing in sassy remarks and clever jibes in the past hour because he hasn’t read the Harry Potter books, but that’s part of the fun. Most of his true friends would never hesitate to give him a hard time about something or lovingly make fun of him and he’s glad that it’s the same with her. Surely she wouldn’t do that if she regarded him as the ‘famous’ Tom Hiddleston today?

They haven’t made it to the London Zoo yet because he’s still got things to show her and because they’re so immersed in their conversation that they keep stopping.

He’s wondering though whether he’s been talking quite that much because his throat is feeling really sore. Also, why is the wind making him sneeze so much today? It’s not as if he isn’t used to London winters or anything.

They’ve just made their way into Camden Passage and are window-shopping as they pass by all the vintage shops and antique markets. “Looks just like a hidden part of Diagon Alley,” Han says, lightly elbowing him in the ribs.

Tom scoff-smirks. “You just can’t let it go, can you?”

She shrugs. “I mean, you practically look like an adult version of Harry when you wear glasses and you went to an English boarding school and...and...how can you NOT read about him?”

Huh, he looks like Harry Potter? And if she says that, does that mean she’s looked at him quite a bit? Pink-cheeked yet again, Tom mutters something about broom closets and then distracts Han with a hand on her arm. “Speaking of reading or not reading, look at that quaint little bookstore with old treasures!”

They cross over in mutual excitement and Tom shivers. Gee, it’s gotten even colder. He can’t seem to stop shivering despite his trusted cardigan.

And then they enter the store, and Tom's hit by the rush of warm air so suddenly he's hot all over. And not in the nice comfy way.

"Huh," he mumbles to himself and holds onto the door a bit longer, before he follows Han deeper into the shop.

That's unfortunate, because that vertigo paired with his sore throat and that runny nose? Yeah, that's more than the slight cold he's felt the past few days. Ha. Great.

"Tom?" Han's suddenly next to him, looking at him with big eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." His voice cracks. "Fine."

"You don't look it, to be honest." And then Han stands right in front of him on her tiptoes, so very, very close. Her cold hand on his forehead makes him shiver. "Tom, you're burning up."

"Nah. Can't be."

Okay, the look on her face means no nonsense. But really. He can't be, because tomorrow night he's going to be on the stage again. And they should also be in the London Zoo later. It's not even lunch time yet! They have their entire day ahead of them.

"Well," she says. "It certainly can be. Come on." 

And before Tom can protest, they're out of the door again. "You need your bed. Do you," she hesitates, "do you have someone to take care of you?"

"I… Well. No, but I can make myself some tea. But I don't want the day to stop." Okay. He should shut up. Shut up and get home. Tom turns, then turns again, and then he's hit with some kind of vertigo that makes him hold on to the closest thing he can find - Han's shoulders.

"Whoa. I'm not sure about the tea. Do you want me to take you home? Let's get a cab? Wait, where are you even living? Is it close? Do you want me to see? Sorry. Stopping now."

Tom chuckles and coughs. How could he say no now? 

* * *

And  so somehow - things inside his brain are a little fuzzy now - that’s how he ends up in a cab with Han. Sitting really close. Fussing over him. It’s nice, and if he wasn’t alternately freezing to death and burning in hell, he’d savour every weird second of this.

He should’ve seen this coming. But he’d put his general feeling of being under the weather down to stress and nerves. And he’d looked forward so much to spending time with Han in his wonderful city.

She’s stopped needling him about the books, so he really must look quite crappy.

Han is talking a bit much though. Or maybe that’s just him zoning out. But it seems like she’s keeping up some form of chatter during the whole cab ride. And then they’re out in the cold and he’s swaying on his feet and feeling very unmanly, and wants to kick himself for ruining today’s not-date.

And then they’re inside his flat and Tom can’t even make a joke about taking her home.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks.

She’s blinking at him. “Whatever for?”

“This,” he gesticulates and regrets it a second later when it worsens the vertigo, “is NOT London Zoo.”

She chuckles, sneaking glances around her but also looking very worried. Adorably so, if his fuzzy brain is to be trusted. “It’s okay. You didn’t exactly plan on being sick.”

Shit yeah, he’s sick, right. No denying it anymore. Oh god, what about the play?!

" I'm sure you could call in, right?" The way Tom looks at her has Han believe he doesn't know he asked it out loud. Definitely sick then. She glances around some more. They're in the hallway, a few doors leading to different rooms. She can see the kitchen through an open door and suspects another one leads to the guest bathroom. In the far end she sees a big sofa. The living-room then?

Tom's coughing pulls her out of her thoughts. "I need my sofa, I think," he mumbles.

"Okay," she nods, "okay. Well, come on then."

And with that she pushes Tom to walk in front of her, holding him by the elbows. Hopefully it actually is the living-room she's leading him to. She's in caretaker mode now, and he certainly needs it. Yup. It's the right room, and Tom almost falls onto the comfy looking couch. He groans.

"Oh, sweetheart." One hand on her mouth, Han stops and stares. He didn't hear, right? Well, too late now. On with it. She walks to him and kneels down between the sofa and the couch table. She checks his forehead again and frowns. "It's getting worse. Do you have any pills or medicine?" 

"Bathroom," Tom mumbles into the pillows. "Upstairs. Next to the bedroom."

Eh. Yeah. No. Or maybe yes? Han risks a glance into the hall. Would it be easier to take him upstairs? She shakes her head at herself. Stupid, she's so stupid.

"Okay, I'll go searching. And should I…," she stops. She can't ask, can she? "Should I get you something to change into? I'll get you something. And then some tea. Yeah."

So, she stands up, looks down at him again and smiles softly. And then Han sighs. This is not how she imagined the day to go.

***

Tom  is having a brief moment of panic and lucidity. He’s really at home, cocked out on the couch like some wimp, isn’t he? And Han’s here too. They haven’t even shared a meal together or gone out and she’s here. Oh god, and she’ll see his room and… Has he even cleaned up after himself the past few days, what with the stress of the show? Heaven help him, will she take one look at the bachelor pad’s chaos and run for dear life?

He boosts himself up into a sitting position, his head spinning for a few seconds. Jesus fucking Christ. Way to impress a girl you fancy, Hiddleston. Not that he fancies her, nuh-uh. Still, first impressions could be better than this.

He rubs his neck, coughs, and tries to listen for sounds from his room. Nothing. What’s she doing upstairs? And is the fever making him hallucinate or did she call him ‘sweetheart’ for a moment? Nah, can’t be.

Deciding he needs to do something - anything really - he gets up in slow motion. Shuffles drunkenly to the kitchen, holding on to as many surfaces he can touch to steady himself. Painstakingly fills the kettle with water and puts it on. Then sinks onto a kitchen chair with a groan that he can feel in his bones. If only he weren't so fucking exhausted just keeping himself in one bit.

***

This is such a bad idea, Han thinks while going through the cabinet in Tom's bathroom. There are pills and bottles, and Han has absolutely no idea what they mean. Maybe she should learn about English medicine if she's going to stay here?

After a minute of staring at the items, Han takes a plastic bag and just puts all the stuff in there she thinks might help. Tom will know what to take.

Rushing through the upper hallway, she tries not to look around so much. It feels wrong, and she'd be mortified if Tom walked through her flat alone, searching for her things. On the other hand, he's sick. She can't leave him on a sofa possibly suffocating to death.

So, she runs into his bedroom - jeans and jumpers are on the floor, but otherwise it doesn't look too bad - and randomly opens doors and drawers. Nope. No need for new boxers. She can feel herself turning all shades of red.

" _ Oh, Gott sei Dank _ ," Han mumbles to herself when she finally finds the clothes she needs. Sweatpants and a t-shirt should be fine.

She hurries downstairs and stops. She's left him here, right?

"Tom?" 

"Kitchen." is the croaked reply. 

And that's where she finds him, sitting on a chair, water boiling in the kettle, almost done.

"What are you doing up?" she admonishes him. "You should be asleep on your couch."

But Tom looks at her with such pathetic puppy dog eyes, she can't be mad. Not really. So instead, she puts the clothes and the plastic bag on the table next to him and then moves over to the kitchen counter with the boiling water. For tea, she suspects.

"Okay then. You get changed, and I'll make the tea," she decides while rummaging through his cabinets in search of tea. No answer. "Tom?"

Han turns around, stops dead and then doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. Or maybe search for something to scratch her eyes out.

Tom's managed to take off his shoes, the jeans he was wearing - yes, was - is halfway down his legs as he struggles to slip out of it.

"Okay," she mutters. "Undressing in the kitchen is not an option."

He’s  giving her that puppy dog look again though, and she really just wants to throw her hands up and curse this to the moon in back in German. And English. And whatever other foul words in other languages she knows.

Sighing and realizing he won’t make it to the living room couch with his jeans akimbo around his knees, she walks over. How the hell to do this without touching what she shouldn’t touch or looking at what she shouldn’t see?

With acrobatic feats on both their parts, she gets the jeans up enough for Tom to walk. Which he does, leaning heavily on her and mumbling apologies non-stop.

“Right. Now do your thing.” In her haste to make things minimally less awkward, Han lets go of him so abruptly he topples back down onto the couch. “I’ll go...do my thing.”

Yeesh, has she lost some brain cells on the way here? He’s the one with the fuzzy head, not her. Han mutters to herself, turning and speed-walking back into the kitchen because she’s pretty sure she’s seen too much of Tom’s butt cheeks on his second fumbled attempt of undressing.

“ _ Das ist doch alles nur ein Traum. Gleich wach ich auf und lach mich zu Tode _ ,”* she whispers to herself. But when she makes tea, a drop of hot water splashes onto her skin and makes her hiss. Okay then, not asleep and having the weirdest dream EVER. Shit.

Han busies herself with waiting for the tea by the counter and searching for some toast and butter and maybe something else to put on it. She may not know much about the pills he has to take to feel better, but she does know that he should eat and drink something before taking them.

Well, and she does too. She glances at the clock on the wall. Almost 12pm, and they both haven't had lunch yet. And her making lunch for them certainly hasn't got anything to do with Han trying to buy some time. The later she gets to the living-room the more likely it is for Tom to manage getting his pants up.

God, she's never thought she'd think like this.

When there isn't anything else to do, Han takes a deep breath and walks into the other room, armed with two plates of toast and one mug of tea. She considers closing her eyes while entering, but she's too afraid to burn herself.

Thankfully, Tom did manage to put on the sweatpants and the t-shirt in the meantime. Han hopes he doesn't hear her relieved sigh.

He's sitting upright, sweating and shivering simultaneously with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"You should lie down," Han whispers, suspecting there's a massive headache accompanying the runny nose and sore throat.

"Bad host," Tom croaks out, and Han raises her brows. "Mum would be appalled."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Well, I invited myself in, so I think we're past hosting duties. Maybe when you can walk in a straight line and say two words without coughing we can talk about you making it up to me."

And hopefully he'll forget she's ever said that.

"Okay," he mumbles.

"Okay." Han puts everything down in front of him. "Start eating and drink some tea, I'm going to get mine and then your pills. I have no idea what you should take, but you must have some cold meds, right? Right." God, she's rambling. Again. When Tom does nothing but stare back at her, Han nods and then is off to the kitchen again, getting everything for Tom to take and for her to drink.

* * *

Tom wakes with a start and a coughing fit. He sits up, realizing dimly that he’s not in his bed but on the sofa. Wrapped in two blankets, fuzzy-headed but not quite as dead as he vaguely remembers feeling.

And then the memories flood in and he’s hot all over again.

Sure enough, when he looks around, he isn’t alone in the room. Han is sitting in an armchair by the bookshelves, an open book in her hand and looking at him.

He lifts his hand in a feeble half-wave, then wants to smack his head against the coffee table. Seriously?

There’s a quickly suppressed grin and a wave back. “How are you feeling, Tom?”

Yeah, how IS he feeling? Mortified? Disappointed? Angry at himself? Eternally grateful? Well, she probably means his health so he makes an effort to croak out an answer.

“Not so feverish anymore but like hell?”

She nods, closing the book and getting up. “You slept for a few hours, fitfully. Would you like some more tea?”

Not only has she stayed here instead of leaving his sorry, sick arse, she’s still offering to help. “You deserve your name,” he mumbles, wondering dimly why his stupid brain seems to not be obeying him.

“Huh?”

They’d talked about this before, how her surname Engels is connected to the word “Engel”, which means “angel” in German. “You’re a real angel, Han. Thank you.” Whatever gratitude he has is interrupted by a mighty sneeze followed by a cough though. Guess he’ll just be sniveling with gratitude then…

Han blushes. It's endearing to see. Also nice to know he's still got it. Whatever 'it' is.

"You're welcome, Tom." And now he is the one who is grinning like a loon. Tom can feel it, although everything feels a little detached from reality. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting here!" he tries to call back - isn't he a funny one? - but he's interrupted by another coughing fit. Time for some flu meds.

Everything hurts when Tom sits up properly, two blankets still around him, and grabs the bottle of pills and the water to wash them down with. It's his go-to remedy whenever he gets sick during work. Of course, lots of sleep and care and going easy would be the best way. But people depend on him most of the time. Entire movie productions do. Can't delay filming to get rid of a simple cold.

Tomorrow he'll feel better. And now, sleep. At least that's what his body tells him. But he can't, because Han is still there, and they've already lost precious hours due to him sleeping like a baby. Tom checks the clock. It's the afternoon, and they've barely talked.

She comes back with two new mugs of tea and frowns at him.

"What?"

"You should be resting."

Tom shakes his head. "Can't drink the tea then, can I?" And he's delighted by her eye-roll. She looks cute then. "So cute."

Wide-eyed they stare at each other, before Han clears her throat. Fuck. Where did that come from? Tom hastily takes the mug and then a big sip, not caring at all he'll probably burn his tongue. He already has, obviously.

Han  has no idea how to react. None whatsoever. Which is a first for her. Sometimes, Tom seems to suck the sass right out of her. Ohmygod. Nope, not a good idea to think of any sucking he might do, related to her. Nopity nope.

It’s the meds. Obviously. Making him loopy. Han clears her throat again, noticing that he’s downing that hot tea and probably causing more damage to his sore throat.

“I...um… I guess I should go?”

He looks panicky for a moment, which makes her heart ache weirdly. But he’s also nodding like a puppet on a string and then promptly coughing again.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course. I mean. I’m fucking pathetic company at the moment.” He tries his signature ‘ehehe’ but that just makes him cough even more.

“Do you need anything else from me?” Han asks, fidgeting because she kind of wants to stay and mother him some more but it’s just all so WEIRD.

“Oh just hug me and kiss it better, and I’ll be right as rain.”

She’s blinking at him so rapidly she’s the one experiencing some vertigo now. He did not just say that?!

Oh . Fuck. Is it too late to drown himself in the tea? Han looks mighty uncomfortable and these meds are doing very strange things to his brain.

So, Tom settles for a grin. A big one. His winning smile, making the fangirls swoon. Should work on Han too. Making her forget what he's just said. Hell,  _ he _ forgot what he said as well.

With bright red cheeks Han is grinning now as well. See? Already good.

"Okay, Tom, I think we can trust the meds to work their magic, don't you think?" 

"Well, maybe. Maybe not. But maybe." He nods. "Possibly." 

And now she's laughing and it's honestly the most wonderful sound Tom's heard all day.

"Yeah, possibly." She's putting her scarf and jacket back on, looking around the room. "Are you fine down here?" 

Another nod from Tom. He's good at this. "Yup," he confirms, then yawns. He can't help it.

"Okay, get some more sleep, yes?" 

"Uh-huh." He's already snuggling deeper into the blankets, leaning on his side, until it feels all soft underneath his head. "Not tired, though," he mumbles, and he could swear he hears Han snicker. Can't be too sure, neither about her hand possibly in his hair.

"I'll text you tomorrow, see how you're doing, okay?" 

"Yeah. Call me." 

And then everything fades away and the last image in his head is of Han in her scarf, rosy cheeked and with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> Leave a comment, if you like :)
> 
> *”Surely this is all just a dream. Any moment now, I’ll wake up and laugh my ass off.”


	3. Chapter Three

“You eat sometimes, right?”

“I… tend to do that. From time to time, yeah.” Ben chuckles on the other end of the line, and Tom’s glad his friend can’t see him blushing. He’s over the worst of the cold, but sometimes he thinks his brain suffered permanent damage.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? What did you mean, then?” Now, he’s just making fun of him. Tom rolls his eyes. He’s not as much of an expert as Han is at it, but he’s getting there.

“Good restaurants? You know them?” Maybe, just maybe, Tom sounds a bit pissy. But the play is slowly getting to him. He’s tired, he’s hungry, he’s missing friends. And he knows Han doesn’t think of him badly, she actually checked on him via text just as she promised. But Tom still feels bad for ruining their day. And he also doesn’t like how Han doesn’t know many people out here. He wants her to feel good.

“Oh,” Ben chuckles through the phone, “I know many. Do you want to take me out? All you have to do is ask.”

“Shut up.” But Tom can’t fight the grin. “Do you happen to know any German restaurants here? I’d like to try that some time.” Plus, Han moaned and argued about their lack of good bread. Or anything good, really. She’s not that fond of English food it seems. On the other hand, she’s never tried his cooking and neither his mum’s. Not that she has any reason to.

“German, yeah? Does that have to do with your nurse?”

God, he should have never told Ben about that. But in Tom’s defense, he was probably still high on his flu meds.

" No ?" Goodness, his voice sounds so squeaky and his answer so much like a question that not even his fangirls would believe him now. Tom sighs. "She doesn't have many people here, okay? And I ruined our day out. I want to do something nice for her."

"And that's very lovely of you." Ben actually sounds genuine this time, though there is that hint of a smirk in his voice. "Okay, I don't know any off the top of my head, but I'm going to ask Sophie."

Tom cringes. "But you're both going to gossip about me and then she'll look at me all knowingly when we meet." Though there actually is nothing to know.

His friend laughs. "But we'll only gossip behind your back. And there's nothing to talk about anyway, right?"

"Right. But I'm going to be best man at your wedding if you only even think about making fun of me." 

Now, it's Ben's time to splutter and mutter. "There's no… I'm not… I haven't."

Tom smirks. "No, but you will."

"I'll text you after I ask her. About the restaurants I mean."

"You do that."

* * *

“ _ Isst du auch was Gescheites? _ ” her father is asking - and not for the first time since she’s moved here.

Han resists an eye roll, knowing he just cares and hasn’t really ever left his German home. “ _ Ja, Papa, keine Bange _ .”

She tells him in German that she does eat proper food - but cringes a bit. It’s been such a change and most of the stuff here is a bit bland or just unfamiliar. But the bakeries are full of treats and the supermarkets have some good, more international food too. She just misses her favourite German food sometimes.

She’s not going to whine though. London is epic and she’s had a bit more time to get to know it despite starting her new job. Without Tom, sadly. Or maybe that’s good because she has no business becoming attached to him. He doesn’t exist to show her around, dammit. And she doesn’t exist to want him to do that.

“ _ Sorry, was? _ ” She realizes she’s missed a good chunk of what her Papa has said and focuses on the conversation. It’s a good thing he hasn’t quite managed video calls yet.

Her mother takes over the phone, asking her about clothes and a million other things. One would think she’s living on another planet… Smiling because they care so much even though she’s an adult and has traveled abroad before, Han finishes her call.

All that food talk has made her hungry. Maybe another trip to that bakery around the corner is in store? This totally isn’t France but the croissants are amazing.

She’s barely shrugged into her puffy winter coat when her phone dings with an incoming message.

Oh. Tom. She’s pink-cheeked again, but surely that’s just the cold draft from the door…

‘I hope your first week at work was good,’ he writes, and Han cringes. Sometimes it feels like he’s trying too hard to make it up to her, and sometimes she just wants the banter back which they had when she was in Germany. Seeing someone undress in the kitchen seems to change the relationship. ‘Can I make our missed sightseeing and you nursing me up to you?’

Han smiles - maybe looking like an idiot - as she reads the message again. And again. She can’t help it, Tom is simply the most charming person she’s probably ever met. Sometimes she wonders if he knows and simply turns on a button somewhere, or if Tom’s really not aware of the impact he has on other people. Whatever it is, it works on her every time, almost annoyingly so.

‘You don’t have to, but you can,’ she types back and only seconds later he’s responded. Huh. Eager?

‘Good, there’s this German restaurant not far away. I know you miss your food and I happen to like a Schnitzel as well. What do you say? Can I take you there maybe on Saturday? I have a show first, but if it’s not too late for you, we can go after? I know I’ll be incredibly hungry when I’m done. And I could appreciate the company.’

Wow. He had that planned, hadn’t he? Also, German food. Can he really read her mind?

***

Tom  should be focusing on his workout. But all he can think about is whether Han will accept his invitation. Is he too eager? Trying too hard? It’s not as if he really has to make amends, no matter how much he tells himself that. It isn’t his fault that he got sick. But it does speak volumes about her character that she stayed to care for him.

His memory is a little fuzzy in some regards but what he does remember makes her an amazing friend to have. And friends take friends out for a meal, right? Right.

His phone vibrates with a message and he fumbles with it so hastily he drops it. Muttering curses, he kneels to pick it up and promptly knocks his head. Muttering curses somewhat more loudly now, he checks for her reply.

‘Sounds like a great idea. As long as I’m not expected to wear a dirndl and as long as the food really is German...’

She’s added a winking emoji and he’s grinning loopily at it. Also, he’s trying very hard not to imagine Han in a traditional dirndl dress, certain - cough cough blush blush - assets pushed up prettily. Yikes, no, not thinking of that at all.

‘Deal. Danke.’ he types, still grinning like a loon. My, those cold meds sure have a long-lasting effect.

* * *

Another day, more pacing through Han's flat. This is getting ridiculous. She checks her watch again, and sighs. It's almost 11pm. Tom told her he'd be late, that he'd come after the show to get her, but that she wouldn't have to worry, he'd deal with the restaurant. Oh, and she also had a nap that afternoon and a sandwich to get her through the night.

She shakes her head at herself. Tom's making her do all the crazy things. Going out to dinner past 11pm. She shouldn't tell her parents about this.

Han looks down at herself. She's not dressed for a date, but for dinner with a friend. Wooly tights and a wooly dress, hair half up and the make-up done to look presentable, but not too much. A normal evening out.

The doorbell rings, and this time Han is ready. She grabs first her jacket and her bag, shoes already on. Then she picks up the phone next to the door. "Hi, coming down," she breathes down the line and hangs up, before Tom can answer.

Getting into her jacket on the way down the stairs, Han feels her heart hammering in her chest. But it's a good feeling now. She's excited to see Tom, and maybe for once they'll have a normal evening out, without awkward glances, almost-touches, sneezing and coughing.

Okay, that's not going to work. As Han walks out of the door, Tom is standing there, jacket pulled up high, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He looks relatively fresh for just finishing a show, and he beams at her as she walks towards him.

They hug, and Han can smell Tom's shampoo and body wash and - as crazy as it sounds - the warmth he's giving her.

"Hi," he smiles as they part.

"Hi." And another stupid wave, which seems to be her go-to move.

"We can take the Tube, the German Gymnasium is actually close to King's Cross station." There's a knowing grin on Tom's face and Han can't suppress the giddy laugh.

"So, did you go all A-lister on the chef and manager then?" she winks as she snuggles closer into her jacket. It's still January, and it's still freezing. "Or did you promise autographs? A Harry Potter reading maybe?"

Tom  guffaws. He loves this about her. That she will needle him, and make him laugh, and make him forget that some people have a problem acting normal around him.

“Maybe you should do the reading as you’re  _ such _ an expert,” he sasses back, earning himself one of those cute eye rolls he’s fast becoming used to.

They slip into easy banter on their way to the Tube station. She tells him what a Gymnasium is and that she graduated from one with Abitur. And complains that the British way of calling their poshest private schools ‘public schools’ is too confusing. Which leads to him telling her about his school days for a while, feeling as if that’s the most natural thing to talk about. Wow, they’re already sharing their childhoods with each other.

“So, what made you choose that particular German restaurant? Don’t tell me, it’s got at least one Michelin star?” she asks as they get into the Tube and automatically sit down next to each other.

Mm, he can smell her typical ‘Han scent’ up this close, blocking out the mingled and not-so-pleasant smells one always finds on public transport. Oops, distracted. He’s supposed to answer a question.

Tom half-turns towards her for conversation, which makes all sorts of their body parts brush. Oh. He’s not thinking this through, huh.

Ignoring the sparks flying and about a million things more, Tom clears his throat. Should he tell her the truth, that he asked Ben for advice? That's creepy, right? Speaking about her with other people? On the other hand, maybe it just shows that he cares? A normal amount.

"A friend recommended it," is what he settles for. "And if English meals don't do the trick, at least something has to keep you here, right?"

Oops, that was too much. Tom blushes - fucking again and all the time - and looks down at his knees. Yeah, there's a small bit of loose fluff that needs his immediate attention.

"Hm." He can hear the smile in Han's voice even over the loud music the guy sitting two seats over is listening to. He won't look at her, though. That was one way to make the night awkward. "Tell your friend thank you then. And maybe I'll even get used to English food."

They laugh about that and eventually Tom finds his footing again and they share little things about their days until ten minutes later it's time to leave the Tube.

"I promise," Tom starts, "we're going to stay here a bit after the restaurant, if you want to. But now we have a table booked."

He loves the way Han's looking around, taking everything in, and even suppresses a squeal, when she spots the handle by the wall of platform 9 ¾.

"Well, I guess I have an entire year to come here. Now," she answers as she hooks one arm with his, sending another round of sparks through his body, "lead the way and show me that food."

* * *

And  so Tom does just that, feeling oddly happy to be doing this. With her.

They make their way to the German Gymnasium Grand Café, both of them way too excited about the food and about the triple alliteration in the name. They stand outside the place for a moment, staring and blinking.

“That’s…” Han cranes her neck, her eyes wide. “Way bigger than I thought. And doesn’t look like a restaurant at all.”

Tom takes in the imposing facade in light brown, the huge windows and the odd, high roof. Sure, outside are groups of chairs and folded umbrellas, potted plants and menus, but she’s right, it doesn’t quite give off restaurant vibes.

“That’s because it used to be an actual gymnasium,” he says as they make their way inside and gape some more at the huge hall with a vaulted ceiling. “This building was England’s first purpose-built gymnasium, believe it or not. It’s around 150 years old now, and it was established and used by Germans.”

Han shoots him a look that he can’t quite read. “You did your homework, huh? I like it!”

Tom shrugs, feeling a bit warm suddenly. Must be because they’re indoors now… “Ah well, it’s an interesting place for sure. Just look at all that space! I remember reading that the main exercise hall has a floor to ceiling height of over 50 feet and…”

“Hold it right there, Englishman,” Han stops him with a scoff and an adorable grin. “No feet and inches for this German girl, please.”

He chuckles as they walk towards the side of the restaurant that holds the huge bar and food counter. There are group tables and smaller ones all over the place, filled with light and tasteful, non-German-looking decor. It really is surprisingly vast. It’s also teeming with guests but still somehow seems uncrowded.

“Speaking of which, this German girl is famished,” Han adds with a giddy gleam in her eyes that he knows is mirrored in his. “Did you have anything particular in mind or shall we just order everything and keep eating for days?”

" As much as I would like that, and believe me, I would, they are keeping the kitchen open for us this late instead of just serving drinks, so I compromised with the manager." Tom actually looks a bit sheepish, admitting that, but all Han can do is find it adorable. And a bit intimidated. They keep serving the warm food just for them. "They have their limited menu they're going to offer us."

Han nods. "Yeah, that does sound reasonable. Also, less options for me having to choose from. That's probably better, unless you want to sit here with me until 4am." She laughs, but she must admit the idea doesn't sound too outlandish to her.

Before Tom can answer, an important looking guy is coming to them. "Ah, Mr Hiddleston and your lovely companion," he says with a heavy German accent, making Han feel at home immediately. "We have a table for two in the back of the room if you allow me to show you."

He turns, and Han blushes as she feels Tom's hand on her upper back, softly pushing her forward. A few people are looking their way, some of them risking a second glance. But there's no squealing and Han can't see any meltdowns either. This isn't too bad.

They get comfortable at their table, plates, glasses and two fancy - but not too fancy - looking menus waiting for them.

"Can I offer you anything to drink?" fancy-guy asks and points to the sheet on the table.

Tom grins at her. "You choose, I think you know what's tasty here?"

Oh, goodness, the pressure. She studies the menu, eyes flicking from the paper to Tom and to the waiting manager - at least Han thinks he's the boss here. And then she smirks.

"I'll have the Hefeweizen, please. And a Pils for Tom. And we'd both like one of the Haselnuss Schnapps."

And now she has the manager on her side, Han can see the flicker in his eyes.  _ "Oh, Sie wissen, wovon Sie reden. Kommt sofort." _ And with a flourish he's off, sending a wink her way.

With a smile she turns to Tom, meeting his slightly questioning glance. "Huh?" she asks, rather stupidly.

"What was that about?" 

"Oh," she grins, "he said I seem to know what I'm talking about. And he's getting it straight away."

"Okay then. What are we going to eat?"

"Ha!" she whisper-shouts, a bit intimidated by the sheer amount of champagne and expensive wine on the menu. It's a quiet place here. "Let's have a look then."

So they do. Han's gaze flickers to the top of the page. It's a set menu, they can apparently either choose two courses for 25 pounds or three for 30. There are four options of starters and mains each, and two for pudding. It all looks amazing, and she's so hungry, she could eat everything on there.

"Guess it's either starter or dessert," she mumbles to herself, eyes glued to the options.

At Tom's startled "Huh?" she looks up and meets his blinking gaze.

"I mean… Well…" she starts, and doesn't know whether she should be encouraged or intimidated by Tom's slowly forming grin. "It's just, it's 30 pounds for three courses. And if I got it right, you're inviting me. So I'm going to choose between a starter and dessert, I guess."

Now, he's frowning. God, did she get it wrong after all? She does have enough money on her, that shouldn't be a problem.

"But why?"

"Because it's cheaper?"

And now, he's chuckling. Honestly, it's giving Han some serious headache trying to figure out what this means.

"Han," he says, leaning over the table, getting closer to her, lowering his voice. "You know how I said I love it that you treat me like a normal guy?" She nods. "Let me put it this way. Even if I wasn't an actor, I would be able to buy you a three course meal for 30 pounds and still buy myself some food as well."

"But there's also the beers."

"I think I can manage two to three rounds as well."

He grins, and for the hundredth time with Tom in close proximity she blushes. "Okay," she relents.

"Okay," he agrees and leans back again. "Now tell me what Obatzda is?"

Oh, she knows about that! "Yeah, that's from Bavaria. You basically have some soft cheese and then use butter or Rahm or Quark to make it somewhat smooth. And then you put onions in and things like… Uhm…" What’s the English word again? "Radish!"

"Okay. Sounds good. So it'll be the Black Forest Ham and Obatzda for me first. And the Cornish mackerel. And you bet I'm going to have the cheesecake."

"I approve," she grins. "I'm going to have the smoked salmon with Rösti then. And the chicken Schnitzel. I do hope they're making the Bratkartoffeln as well as my mum," she laughs.

"And?" There's the grin again, and Han rolls her eyes.

"And the warm apple strudel."

"Good."

When the manager - even Tom feels a bit special with him personally caring for them tonight - comes back with their beers and some strong, but very delicious Schnapps, Tom lets Han order their meals. She's positively glowing, feeling a little bit more at home, he suspects.

He also has no idea what Han and the manager are talking about in German when Han orders the food and also later when they order more beer and a schnapps after their dessert along with some very nice coffee.

Tom gets that they must be talking about where she's from - near Frankfurt - how they're looking forward to the football world championship this summer - he feels a bit put out that they're apparently making fun of England here - and then something about her work.

During their dinner they've talked about her work as well, Han being thrown into the business on her first week and basking in the challenge it gives her. Maybe she'll even fall in love with the work and the city and stay here? But he's getting ahead of himself. Especially with him being out and about shooting movie after movie for the upcoming months. Years, really.

It makes him a bit sad sometimes. Because Han is a lovely woman, and under different circumstances - not that Tom would admit it out loud or even to himself - he'd ask her out. But there's all the stuff that comes with knowing him. Pictures, no time at all for the two of them with him working all over the world. So, friends it is.

"Tom?" Han asks after the manager's left with his credit card. She's biting her lip, chewing on it.

"Yes?"

"We're friends, right?"

His heart beats faster. Has he said anything out loud? Can she read his mind? Or his face? In his eyes?

"Of course we are! If you want us to be?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I love this. It's just. This could feel a bit like a date. But possibly my time here is limited and…"

"... And I'm me."

Han's eyes are wide. "That's totally not what I wanted to say! Did it sound like I wanted to say that? I'm so sorry, it has nothing to do with you."

Gah. This is getting harder by the second, and not just because Han somehow becomes cuter and cuter and more beautiful the more she rambles and blushes.

"No, no, it didn't sound like that all. But I'll be gone, shooting movies. The US, Ireland, Canada and I don't even know where else."

"All this year?"

"Yup." There she has it. The harsh truth. Not all of it, though, because Tom's afraid it'll scare her off for real, maybe not even wanting contact whenever he's in town, if he says something about being photographed whenever he doesn't want to. Or maybe she already knows.

"Well, we can still be friends. I have to repay this meal after all. And your phone should work in other countries as well?"

"It should," he smirks, hoping it reaches his eyes.

Friends. That's honestly such a great idea.

"Good. A bit of glamour in my life. That's good," she grins back.

And then he laughs. "You say that now. Okay." He claps his hands once, looking at his watch, staring at the 1.05am that's glaring back at him, shortly before the manager comes back with the credit card. "What do you say?" he continues as they stand up and get ready to leave. "King's Cross in the moonlight?"

Han smiles at him. "I'd be up for it." And then she grins. "Don't go too romantic on me, though. Might just forget everything we've talked about then."

When they leave the restaurant and Han hooks her arm with his outside, searching for a bit of warmth in the chilly night air, Tom hopes his laugh doesn't come out too forced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was our look into Tom and Han's beginning.  
> For the next story we're going to take a bit more time than a week, but we'll be back!  
> Thank you for reading, and leave a comment if you like :)

**Author's Note:**

> * “You fool, as if you could ever have a quiet minute here.”
> 
> Thank you for reading and consider leaving a comment :)


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